Children of Illegal Workers

In the best-run  societies there will always be those who fall between the cracks. The Catholics of Korea are turning their attention to the children of foreign workers illegally in the country. The children of these foreign workers are not provided benefits other children routinely receive, such as educational and health benefits, because their births have not been registered. It is a blind spot in our societal concerns.

There are 1748 children of foreign workers now attending schools. However, it's assumed that about 8000 children between the ages of 6 and 15  are not attending school because their parents, being here illegally, fear to register the birth of these children.

However, children whose births have been registered get the privileges. The bishops' committee concerned for foreign workers met recently and publicly announced that all children should have the right to an education. Children of the illegals don't receive protection under the law, are confused about their identity, have difficulties in learning to speak Korean, and suffer because of the poor financial situation of their parents.

Concerned Catholics are hoping that there is some way of showing concern for these children. The Church also should be playing a part in resolving some of the problems that arise from the situation. The bishops said that we should not only solve the present problem but uncover the reasons we have this problem in the first place.

An article and an editorial in the Peace Weekly explain that Korea is now a multicultural society, with over 1 million 400 thousand foreigners residing in Korea; about half are foreign workers searching for the Korean dream. Even though many of these foreign workers, after their contract period is over, remain in the country illegally, creating the present problem, there needs to be found a humane way of dealing with this unfortunate condition that both the country and the illegal foreigners will find acceptable.
        

Lay People's Vocation to the Foreign Missions

The Peace Weekly recently reported on a group of young people meeting monthly to determine whether they had a vocation to the missionary life. Meeting at the Columban Foreign Mission Society Mission Center, they were advised by Christina, a Christian missioner who has worked in the Philippines for 10 years, that "missioners overseas have to live like the poor in order to transmit the Christian message." Nine prospects from various parts of  Korea were present to hear her message and in the process to learn something about themselves.

The desire for missionary life came to the young people in different ways. One of the participants who had to travel quite a distance to be at the meetings, was attracted to service by  reading and by seeing the great happiness others have in serving. Another, who came regularly to the meetings for a year, felt the life of a missioner will deepen her experience God's love, and she wanted to share that with  others. 

Christina emphasized that missionary life is difficult. Fearing that some would have the wrong motivation for the life, she pointed out that it is not simply a life of charitable work, or service to others, but understanding and embracing others in the way Jesus did.

When they are sent to a mission area they spend the first 3 years learning the language and the culture, and returning to the simplicity of a child. One is continually being challenged, she said, and feels that having an open mind is a necessary quality in being a missioner.

Once they have decided for missionary life they sign an application and wait about two or three month before being assigned to lodge with a missioner for about 10 months.  It is during this time that they learn about the spirituality of mission, and dialogue with other religions and cultures. They also begin studying conversational English, visiting the sick and providing similar services to others, and, finally, begin a retreat to discern in more depth their call to the mission vocation.

The Columban priest responsible for the group stressed that it is in knowing God's presence in our daily lives, the God who has come to us in the love of Jesus, which is the fundamental message the missioner wants to convey to the people.

Catholic Novelist Facing the Silence of God

Shusaki Endo, a Catholic novelist, is the topic of the  Catholic Times' column 'half transparent notes on life', by another writer with a great interest in literature  There are few Catholics interested in literature today, he tells us, who would not be familiar with Endo.

He was baptized at the  age of 11 and went on to major in French studies. Both his Japanese culture and his Catholicism fascinated him by the contradictions he found in that encounter.  We can't say he was not a Catholic writer, the columnist asserts, but Endo continually pondered in his writing the doubts that arose from the conflicts that were generated by his faith and the culture of his country. His struggle to reconcile the two had a special attraction to many, not only in his own country but to those who were trying to reconcile a secular culture with the truths and values of their own faith.

He was greatly attracted to Jesus' message of love, but in his novels he revealed that he did not fully believe in his miracles. In "The Banks of the Dead Sea," a pitifully sick person asks Jesus for help, but Jesus tells him he doesn't have the power to heal; he wants only to share in the suffering of the sick. Endo presents us only with a human Jesus. This is the  problem the columnist has with Endo.

In the same book, Endo mentions a meeting with Annas, the high priest, who wants to reconcile with Jesus. Annas confesses that although he doesn't believe in God, he knows how to pretend to believe; God for him is an eternal mirage--a thought the columnist feels that Endo entertained.

This similar theme appears in his masterpiece, "Silence." The storyline is about the persecution of the Christians in Japan in the 17th century. Word was received in Portugal that a missioner was needed, so an outstanding Jesuit was sent to Japan to find out what happened. He was captured, tortured and was told that he would be able to save the lives of his follow Christians if he only appeared to apostatize. This would be what Jesus would want, he was told; it would be an act done for the Christians. A  way of beautifying apostasy was the columnist's understanding of what Endo was attempting to show by this aspect of the plot. In the end, after much torture and suffering the missioner did what he was asked to do.

One of the Japanese who had apostatized said that all those who come to Japan with a religion will find that its roots will not be able to withstand the culture and will rot away. This thinking, says the columnist, may be the result of the nationalism of the Japanese.  In any event, he reminds us that the conflicts of the plot may be--in addition to those issuing from Endo's own struggle with his faith life--also the result of Endo's skill in story telling. He was a cynical writer, he says, and a master of designing complicated plots. 

Blessed Cardinal Newman said that a thousand difficulties did not make a single doubt. To doubt means to be unsure whether a belief is true; to have a difficulty with a belief, according to Newman, means to know the belief is true but to be unsure just what it means or why it is true. This unsureness can be overcome. Faith is an act of the will helped by the intellect to assent to what we believe. Difficulties in faith are many, and they are good for us in that we are able to go deeper into what we believe, searching for answers, clarifying, and becoming stronger in our belief. In the Scriptures, there is the prayer of the father who cried out, "I do believe; help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). This may have been the prayer of Endo, and of many others like him, when confronting what is believed to be the "silence" of God in the presence of so much suffering in the world.

           

Living our Full Humanity

Looking back on the beginnings of Christianity in Korea, we see little in the way of reading matter that could be used by the first Christians. They were mostly restricted to reading the two books from China, one written by Matteo Ricci, Cheonju Sileui (True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven) and one by his assistant Diego Pantoja, Chil Keuk (Conquest of the Seven Capital Sins).

The Catholic Times, in its series for Lent, introduces us to  the Pantoja book, written in Beijing 1614, which helped to form the spiritual life of the first Christians of Korea. Before the first priest entered Korea, this book was  extremely important in giving meaning to the life of the Christians, and even after the death of the first priest it continued to help in forming the Christians until the first French missioners came to Korea in 1836. Matteo Ricci's book was the catechism, and Pantoja's book was the devotional book, the means of forming them to be followers of Jesus.

Seven inclinations of our distorted nature take away the joys we should have in life. Even though the first Christians faced a difficult life, Lent for them was not a 40-day  period of repentance; it lasted for 365 days. The Pantoja book helped them to persevere during these difficult times and to grow in virtue.

An attractive feature of the book was that it was written in the vocabulary of those who were  from childhood exposed to the Confucian way of seeing life. Pantoja used this vocabulary and examples that the educated at that time found easy to understand and practice. We must also remember that these early Christians came from the educated class and had little difficulty in reading the Chinese characters.

Pantoja's book, "Conquest of the Seven Capital Sins," presented the seven unruly inclinations and their antidote:  pride, overcome by humility; jealously, weakened by  generosity; avarice, undone by magnanimity; anger, cooled by gentleness; gluttony, blocked by moderation; lust, hindered by purity; and laziness, conquered by  diligence. 


The article reminds us that there are many who consider this way of seeing  life as outmoded, a laughably low-level teaching  and a hindrance to the growth of a mature Christianity.  However, the article goes on to pose the question: why are we in denial about our own pride? The simple and clear way of seeing life proposed by Pantoja is not only proper, insists the article, for the 21st century. It is a necessity for living our full humanity in these difficult times.

Alienation between Faith and Life

Many Christians  distinguish between church and life.  Church is holy and spiritual while daily life is secular and non-spiritual.  However, the Church exists right in the center of the world; Jesus loves the world and came to live in it. Our goal and the way it is realized makes the world either holy or merely secular, writes the desk columnist of the Catholic Times. 

This disparity among Christians between our life and our faith he considers a serious problem. Life is lived in many cases in the same way by those who believe and by those who don't, and those who believe possibly even at times with more dishonesty and worldly ambitions.

Looking at the faith life of Christians, many see it as a thoughtless habit: believing in God but refusing his influence in life; a disciple of Jesus but refusing his directions:  Christian but having no influence on the world. Christians without any strength, a perfunctory belief; not a belief that seeks the will of God but uses God to gain their own will.

External acceptance of church life as the way of having a correct relationship with Jesus is a serious misunderstanding. Jesus wants us to know him, to understand why he came to earth, to follow his teaching and understand what is necessary to live in this way.

Surveys show that Christians feel that there is a natural  alienation between faith and life. Most also sympathize with this position but the columnist does not. Faith they see as a good but daily life is where there is a  problem. He doesn't want the Christians to limit  their faith life  to the church. Many see a zealous religious life as going to  Mass and being  generous to the church. But it is much more than this, and wonders if this alienation does not, in fact, reflect the Korean reality.

The religious life, the columnist says, should manifest itself in the family, in the way the children are raised, in the workplace, the way monies are used. Also in present issues of life:  environment, children's education,  and the like. In these matters Christians are no different than others. If we accepted  God's graces, we would not have the discrepancy between our religious life and daily life, for they would be one. We would understand that we are to live in the world as Christians. We would be walking in the steps of Jesus, who came into the world because he loved the world and wanted to change it. We are being asked nothing less than to follow in his footsteps.

Seeking Catharsis

Vengeance seems to be a very natural feeling that we can understand but as Christians hope to avoid.  Writing on the  opinion page of the  Catholic Times a columnist, though not a great fan of TV soap operas, does admit to watching a Chinese soap opera that deals with revenge in the Chinese  kingdoms of  the 5th century before Christ.

One of the kingdoms was made to surrender to another under with very humiliating conditions; the desire for revenge on the part of the defeated kingdom is the story line.

The columnist explains to us what he feels got him hooked on watching the series. He looks upon our life as having two aspects, the real and the imaginary. In watching a drama, we see the reality of the drama played out in our own life and also in the world of our  imagination. Sometimes there is harmony between them, and sometimes we have to struggle with them and play around with them in our heads.

This situation is called by some as receiving vicarious satisfaction from what we experience: a form of compensation. The columnist is not too happy with this way of describing what is happening. Can we receive satisfaction vicariously? he wonders. He would prefer using the word from Aristotle: cathartic. When we can identify with  some  tragic experience of our hero, there is a cleansing and a purification of our inner world that gives us a sense of freshness and relief.

How is it, he asks, that something tragic can cleanse our spirit and elevate us to another sphere of beauty? He admits that this is not readily answerable.

Getting back to the soap opera story: when one kingdom overcame the other, the victors took all the vanquished, along with  the queen and all the retainers, and made them slaves. Our columnist surmises there  would be few who would not be in sympathy with the losers and view the victors with indignation and antipathy.

The victors, vain, proud and cruel in their victory; the vanquished, pitiful in their plight. He has little doubt where his readers would stand. Aren't the just often the losers--the ones most of us would find sympathetic and attractive? We have a lot to learn, he says, from the patient suffering of the losers.

Jesus has asked us to love our enemies. We try to return love for hate; to desire revenge is prohibited. However, when watching the serial drama, the columnist did not find it strange to want to see justice done. It is precisely this desire to see the proud victorious king subdued, getting his recompense, which keeps our columnist coming back to the TV.

Saint from the Common People

Was Saint Andrew Kim, our first Korean priest and martyr, a member of the Yang-ban class or a commoner? Such is the way the Peace Weekly begins its review of a scholarly treatise by a university professor of Korean history. A matter of not much importance,  but it will tell us much about our saint and his life and times.

Korea during the Joseon period was socially divided between the Yang-ban class and the commoners. The Yang-ban can be briefly described as comprising those who had passed the civil servant exams and held positions of authority in the government. All others would be considered commoners. Descendents of the Yang-ban were awarded the status of nobles during the Joseon Dynasty period (1392 to 1897).

St. Andrew Kim was generally thought to be of the Yang-ban class of Korean society. It has been recorded, following an incident when his  boat was confiscated, that he had asked how can a Yang-ban's boat be confiscated?   From these words, it has been accepted that he was of the Yang-ban social class by many who have studied and written about the issue.

The professor mentioned that there are several problems that arise from this understanding of the matter. The Paris Foreign missioners who lived at the time of the saint considered him a commoner. Bishop Ferreol wrote:  "Andrew Kim and members of his family belonged to the lower social class; they were not members of the nobility." Bishop Dabeluy was of the same opinion.

The boat incident, the professor says, bears little relevance to the saint's place in society but was probably a way of evading the problems he was then facing. His statement can be understood as referring to a family background with a strong faith life and a history of martyrdom. There is little proof that his family belonged to the Yang-ban class. 

The professor feels that the efforts of some scholars to make the saint a member of the Yang-ban social class are misguided. It adds nothing to his life and actually makes it more difficult to understand the saint's faith and life.